Huh?
by Journey Hates
Summary: Guardian Angel Mikchelangela crashes through the window of 221B. Rated T for lanugage potential.
1. Chapter 1

I was bored, and, unlike Sherlock and unlike Michelangela, I am not obnoxious when I am bored, I am creative. This is a Post RBF The song that Michelangela and Sherlock are singing / playing is Vale Decem from the death of the tenth Doctor. If you haven't heard it, please listen to it before you read. Here we go.

Chapter One  
Meetings

John Watson stared at his phone screen, imitating a goldfish quite well. The screen held a text that read.  
'Baker Street if convenient.-SH' He couldn't believe what he was seeing. John looked up at the graffiti tag in front of him. I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES glared at him in big, yellow, dripping letters. He took in a deep, deep breath and turned to the street, hailing a cab.  
When the cab reached Baker Street, John handed the cabby the cash, told him to keep the change and walked up to 221B's door. He pauses, taking another deep breath, before extracting his key from his pocket and opening the door.  
Upon entrance, he heard the strains of a sad violinist. Soon after, a soprano's high soaring; gentle and sad voice dusted the top of its range as she sang. He stumbled up the stairs, casting his cane to the side whispering, "Ah, sod it!" He opened the door slowly, gently, so as not to disturb the music.  
He saw a girl with medium length brown-grey hair and pale skin. Her eyes were two different colours, the right one dusty green and the left one dusty blue. She was tall, slowly creeping up on Sherlock. She was wearing black skinny jeans, a black leather jacket with a tight bottom and a loose top that she had half zipped, reveling a little of her black spaghetti strap tank top. She had her bangs swept to the left (her left) side of her face, and she had a black gray and white plaid messenger boy cap. Her hands had fingerless leather gloves covering them. She was dressed as a gangster or a biker, but she was singing like an opera singer. John could almost see shimmering white wings on her back.  
The song winded to a close, and the girl looked towards John, smiling gently, sadly. Sherlock let the bow and violin rest on the desk next to him. Slowly, the tall man clad in a ragged suit turned to face his best friend, sadness in his icy blue eyes.  
John looked at the man in front of him, and stumbled forwards. Sherlock braced himself for a punch, but he was encompassed in a humongous hug from the frail, blonde man who was standing so close. Sherlock slowly wrapped his arms around John's neck.  
The girl smiled, retreating a little into the kitchen to put the kettle on, knowing John would need the comfort.  
John dug his hands into the ragged material of Sherlock's coat.  
"Why?" His voice was muffled, "Why did you go, Sherlock?" the taller man just buried his face into John's hair, holding in the tears that threatened to betray his feelings that he had kept in check for so long. After a few minutes of standing like that, the girl cleared her throat gently, thinking that the men had fallen asleep. They slowly untangled themselves and turned to face her.  
"I made tea. Anyone want some?" She asked gently. John nodded thankfully, and Sherlock followed suit, thanking the girl with his eyes. Once he had a cup of steaming tea in his hands, John looked at the girl dressed in black.  
"So, who are you?" The girl smiled, "Michelangela, um..." she glanced at Sherlock, who nodded, "I'm Sherlock and your Guardian Angel, but I'm traveling with Sherlock as his adopted daughter..." She told John quietly. He watched her, understanding why he could see wings on her back.  
"Can you...?" John flapped his folded hands the butterfly way. She laughed, "Fly? Of course I can." She closed her eyes for a moment, the black eye shadow showing, her accented red lips slowly parting a small bit. Suddenly, her eyes opened quickly, and shimmering, glossy black wings shot out of her back, passing through her clothes like they were nonexistent. John stared, he lifted his hand to her left wing, the one closest to him, and he expected it to let his hand pass right through, but his hand met resistance. The black feathers were soft, and fluffy, but still firm. Michelangela smiled, "Wanna fly?" She asked him.


	2. Chapter 2

And... We're off! And I'm bored! Here is Michelangela's first crime scene; Mik is her nickname as not many people have the name Michelangela...

Chapter Three  
Hello!

Lestrade walked up to the tape barrier as Sherlock, John, and Mik walked up.  
"Hello, Sherlock, haven't heard from you in a while. Who's this?" He gestured to Mik.  
"Oh, this is Mik, my adopted daughter, she is sixteen and fully capable." Sherlock ducked under the tape, Mik followed him very closely, not letting him time to lift it for her. Sherlock lifted the tape for John who ducked under it. They were standing in front of a small old shack, two or three rooms, not very glamorous. Mik got in first, still in her all black attire and not putting on the forensics outfit. She circled the victim.  
"The man is thirty years old. Financial problems, but that wasn't what cause the revenge. He embarrassed someone, brought something to light that the killer shouldn't have done. The killer wanted revenge and presto, they kill him. He was stabbed from behind, the wound goes all the way through his body, so how do I know? I looked, the cleanest cuts are on the back of his shirt. He has fleas by the way, living out here I'm not surprised. Manual Laborer, nothing interesting. Murderer was probably his boss or some other person of power where he works. Woman, by the looks of it, there is no blood anywhere except the body so she cleaned up, he is laying at an angle that says that she snuck up behind him, cleaned up and fled. She was wearing trainers, jeans, and a tee. That's all I've got, Sherlock?" Sherlock stepped up to the plate and started looking,  
Mik typed somethings on a small tablet, a Kindle Fire. She was searching the couple of facts she didn't get. Sherlock straightened up, "Mik got everything, and a bit more. Trainers?" Mik smiled, "Well, those wedge heels that look like trainers." She showed Sherlock a picture. "These, Dad." Sherlock nodded, he understood. John just stood there with a gobsmacked look on his face. Mik was better than Sherlock. Not really surprising saying as she was an Angel.  
Lestrade walked in, he had been talking to forensics getting facts. Mik looked up, "Do you know the man's name?" Lestrade nodded, a little shell shocked at the abruptness.  
"Michael Canter. Thirty, manual laborer." Mik nodded,  
"Know that already!" then she winced as the name sunk in. "Poor Cas." She muttered. Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "What ya got for me?" He asked the typing consultant. "Ask Mik." Lestrade stared for a moment, and looked at John, who nodded. Lestrade asked Mik the same question. She sighed and repeated herself.  
"The man is thirty years old. Financial problems, but that wasn't what cause the revenge. He embarrassed someone, brought something to light that the killer shouldn't have done. The killer wanted revenge and presto, they kill him. He was stabbed from behind, the wound goes all the way through his body, so how do I know? I looked, the cleanest cuts are on the back of his shirt. He has fleas by the way, living out here I'm not surprised. Manual Laborer, nothing interesting. Murderer was probably his boss or some other person of power where he works. Woman, by the looks of it, there is no blood any where except the body so she cleaned up, he is laying at an angle that says that she snuck up behind him, cleaned up and fled. She was wearing trainers, jeans, and a tee shirt. That's all I got. And then you supplied the name. Gimme a day or two and this will be done. C'mon Dad, John, we got us a killer to catch."


	3. Chapter 4

I had to stop for an hour for dance pics. Done now and onto typing, this is four small chapters in one day, a few hours even! Whoa! Vale's name is pronounced like Vale Decem and I chose it because it means farewell.

Chapter Four  
Chase

Michelangela dashed about the flat, collecting somethings into a backpack. Neither John nor Sherlock saw what they were, but she seemed to need them. Finally, she submerged from a pile of papers, black string backpack on her back and a grin on her face. She had lost the hat for flying home, and never put it back on; her hair was thrown up in a high ponytail.  
"Coming, lads? We've got ourselves a murderer to catch!" John and Sherlock hastily threw on their jackets and rushed after the enthusiastic Angel.  
"Wait, so, if you are supposed to be protecting us, why are you helping us find a murderer who could kill us? And why are WE following You, not you following us?" John demanded, Michelangela laughed,  
"Well, John, get in the taxi and I'll explain." The triplet entered the cab, Sherlock and John sat back to the rear window and Michelangela sat back to the driver. She relayed the destination to the driver and then turned back to face John and Sherlock, telling the cabbie not to listen mentally.  
"Okay, first, I have to let Sherlock keep doing his detective thing or else he's dead for good. Don't want that. And second, you are following me so that if anyone is told to shoot the first person somewhere, I'm shot not one of you geniuses. Git it, got it, good!" She told the pair, fixing the cabbie's mind. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.  
At arrival, Michelangela sang a few bars of the song she and Sherlock had been playing / singing earlier the previous day. Then she was silent, when she heard the next few bars of the song sung back, she grinned, "Cas!" and ran forwards into the old inn in front of them, the Marigold Inn, the sign read.  
Sherlock and John followed her in, wondering who she could have been so happy to see. They saw Michelangela hugging a boy who looked her age with riotous dark, dark brown curls sticking up, relatively pale skin, and brown eyes, he was taller than her by a good inch or two. Michelangela was laughing at something he said as he put her down. Their conversation grew sober as the murder came up, and Michelangela wrapped her arms around the boy once more, sadly this time.  
Sherlock cleared his throat before John could stop him.  
"Who is this, Mik?"  
Michelangela turned,  
"Dad, John, this is Cas, well, most people know him as David, but I call him Cas. He's an Angel too, used to be a Guardian, but the victim of this case, well, he was his Watch, he's out of the ranks." She squeezed Cas' hand once reassuringly. Sherlock nodded, "So, Cas," He said Cas' name almost mockingly, "Do you know who killed your Watch?" Cas nodded, "Yup, she's in here, I can draw her out, I know her Guardian, the Angel hates her Watch, not good, can't wait to get rid of her and out of the ranks. If we can get her out, I can go back in; I may even be assigned to John." John froze, "Wait, I thought only Half-Angels could be Watched." Michelangela, Cas, and Sherlock nodded, sadly. "So I have to die." Michelangela spoke up, "Not necessarily, you can almost die, and, well. Never mind. Cas? Murderer please." Cas closed his eyes, shimmering grey wings shooting through his black tee shirt. His wind pants rustled his trainers staid firmly on the ground.  
Another Angel appeared. This one was a woman, the model the Greeks used for Aphrodite. Her wings were shimmering white with gold dust glittering over them. Her long golden hair hung down in waves. Her glittering ocean blue eyes stared into John. Her tan skin was set out by her white Greek style robe.  
"David, you summoned me." Her wind chime voice called the boy to the front and center. Cas nodded,  
"Your Watch has killed mine, Vale." He pronounced her name with a long A at the end. "You have to let me bring Justice." Vale turned to look at Cas.  
"Yes, I felt a misuse of my Watch a night ago. I will bring her." Cas nodded. Vale focused her arms out to her sides, her head thrown back. She had always been prone to dramatics. A woman appeared in the center of the circle that had formed. She looked around and panicked, and then she found Vale.  
"Alexi, you have betrayed the right to have a Guardian, and therefore, I am leaving you to the mercy of the Guardian who's Watch you killed, he may do as he likes." Vale told the shaking woman in front of her. "Vale, vale Alexi. (*1)" And Vale shimmered, and slowly faded out of sight. Cas turned to Michelangela,  
"Take her into where ever she needs to go. She is in your hands now; I will go up and wait for the verdict." He hugged Michelangela one more time and then shot into the air, passing right through the roof.  
In NSY, Michelangela explained the version she had thought up, Alexi wouldn't be explaining anytime soon, people get that way when the lose a Guardian, and when she does recover, no one will believe her and she will end up in an insane asylum, always happens.

(*1) - Vale, vale Alexi means Farewell farewell Alexi.


	4. Chapter 5

This is the one where John half dies and becomes a Half-Angel.  
Chapter Five  
John

They were chasing a killer in the heart of London, so they didn't had the help of Michelangela flying overhead to track him.  
John was now standing on the very edge of a building, nowhere to go. Sherlock couldn't shoot the killer because then the killer would fall on John and they would both fall and die.  
Mik tried the mind control.  
"Come on, is dying really an option, is it really better? Come away from the edge." But the man stepped towards John. Mik started to frantically send the calm thoughts that would save everybody, but he wouldn't do it. The killer cried, _"Witch!"_ and leapt for John as Sherlock shot, John and the injured killer fell towards the ground, John would hit first, then be landed on by a good three hundred pounds.  
Sherlock screamed and ran for the fire escape. He thundered down it, Mik close behind. When they got there, Cas was leaning over John's body, wings wrapping around him. Sherlock and Mik's wings extended too, covering John from any more harm that could befall him. Sherlock took John's body in his arms, and cried, wept. The tears of a new Angel fell on John's form. His body lifted in the air, away from the circle of tears and feathers.  
Wings burst from his back, more of an ash grey than black, shimmering slightly. He had skipped right past Half-Angel. The Angel fell to the ground again, gently though. John's eyes opened and Sherlock pulled him up in a hug, their wings wrapped around them, creating a bubble of safety for them while they got used to the Angel feeling.  
Finally the two separated, they smiled, reveling in the Angelic status. John finally sighed, "We should call Lestrade and tell him we had the killer, but he fell." All four of the Angels tucked in their wings as John phoned Lestrade.  
An hour or so later, at eleven-o-clock at night, the four Angels soared into the sky, two pairs of Angels holding hands, John and Sherlock leading Cas and Michelangela. Two pairs of Angels in love.

Finale

"Was that a fairytale, Mrs. Watson?" A five-year-old boy with curly black hair and icy blue eyes asked the mother of his best friend, a five-year-old boy with short blonde hair and blue eyes.  
Mrs. Watson laughed, "Maybe, Sherlock, you will find out when you're older, the age of Sherlock in the story, you have thirty years to wait, dear." Little Sherlock pouted. "C'mon, Jawn. Let's go play Guardian Angel!" He said to his friend, John Watson.  
"'Kay, Sherlock."  
Mrs. Watson laughed as the little boys ran off to the backyard. A sixteen-year-old girl dressed in all black with a black cloth backpack showed up behind Mrs. Watson.  
"You will take care of them, won't you Mikkie?" She asked the girl. Mikkie smiled, her blood red lips parting to show perfect lips.  
"Of course, Mrs. Watson, they are the son and son's best friend of my Watch after all." Mrs. Watson smiled,  
"Thank you, Michelangela, di melioria, the Fates be with you." Michelangela smiled again and her wings spread out, grey, not yet black, with glittering silver. She walked out to the patio, and let Mrs. Watson watch as her son's to-be-Guardian Angel fly off into the day to wait for the time to save her son's life, again, and again."

Prompts accepted, email not checked, so prompt through PM please. I got the Di Melioria from Vale Decem, any Doctor Who fanatics out there?


	5. Chapter 6

Here is Sherlock's Mum meeting Michelangela. (Mik went forwards in time a little.)

Adreia Holmes was walking slowly in the glorious back gardens of her mansion home outside of London. She was around eight months pregnant with her second son and no worse off for it. She was in the rose garden when a young lady appeared from behind the lattice a rose plant was climbing. She jerked backwards violently and gasped. The girl had medium brown-grey hair held back in a braid and pale skin. Her eyes were two different colours, the right one green and the left one blue. She was tall, six feet. She was clad in a knee length ash grey dress; it was slightly fitting to her legs where it flared. She had on smallish wedge heels that were silver in color. Adreia fancied that she saw wings protruding from her dress.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in my private garden?" Adreia demanded of the girl. The girl laughed. "My name is Michelangela, or Mik. I'm your son's Guardian Angel. I will be watching your son and his best friend." Little, one five year old Sherlock dashed into the small courtyard of bricks surrounded by roses on shaky legs. Mik crouched down to say hi. "Hey, Sherli. How are you?" she asked the little boy. She scooped him up and bounced him in her grip a little. He gurgled in happiness. She grinned at Adreia who smiled back. They were both feeling so happy that Sherlock was happy. Adreia had a few questions for the Angel. "My son's best friend? Who? And will you take care of him? Good care?" Mik looked down at little Sherlock's happy smiling face. She smiled sadly. "John Watson. Loyal John Watson. Sherlock Holmes' protector, friend. The man who will someday protect his best friend's memory." Mik smiled and whispered, "_I believe in Sherlock Holmes._" To the toddler in her arms. Mik kissed Sherlock's forehead and put him down. She saluted Adreia, and jumped, shooting into the sky. Adreia whispered,

"Please protect my son."

There we go. Better than meeting John's mum. Gonna go edit that one! BYE!


	6. Chapter 7

Reinette Watson meets Mik

Reinette Watson was walking home from the corner store, when she heard a teenage girl's voice,  
"Mrs. Reinette Watson?" Reinette spun around abruptly. There was a young woman standing in the shadows of the building next to the street. She had medium brown-grey hair held back in a braid and pale skin. Her eyes were two different colours, the right one green and the left one blue. She was tall, six feet. She was clad in a knee length ash grey dress; it was slightly fitting to her legs where it flared. She had on smallish wedge heels that were silver in color. Reinette could almost see silver-grey wings behind the girl.  
"I'm close to being a Guardian. I will be the Guardian of your son and his best friend when they are old enough, but to ensure his safety until he is old enough, I will be shadowing you, but only you will be able to see me unless I need someone else to see me." Reinette still looked confused,  
"But, who are you?" She asked the girl. The girl smiled, and stuck her hand out to shake,  
"Michelangela Home, I'll be Watching two families for two children at once, so I'll pop in and out, I'll be there when Johnni-dear is born. I'm going to be his Guardian Angel and Sherlock Holmes', Adreia's son, well, neither kid is really born yet, but I'll be watching the Mothers until then, then I'll watch them. It's a long process." Reinette nodded,  
"So, Adreia's child, and mine, are going to be best friends, then, are they going to separate and meet back up? What is going to happen?" Michelangela sighed, "Since you're the Mother, I can tell you, but you can't tell anyone else the facts. John and Sherlock will grow up together; they will be really close friends. They will meet first day of preschool and go to the same primary school and the rest of 'em with some help from me.  
Collage, the will separate, John goes to Med collage, Sherlock doesn't go to one, entering the police force as a Consulting Detective, he invents the job.  
John joins the Army as the Doctor of his squad while Sherlock stays in London. By now they have all but forgotten each other.  
John gets invalidated home with a bullet to the shoulder, courtesy of the enemy. Meets with a collage friend, who then leads him to Sherlock who has been recovering from drug addictions. Then they learn to solve cases and live with each other.  
A years or so later, Sherlock is forced to jump after trying to convince John he is a fake, he wasn't. Sherlock dies, but in the white of the In Between, I come to him, tell him he can go back as a Half-Angel then as a Full Angel. John almost dies; Sherlock brings him back as a Full angel, yada, yada, yada." Michelangela confided in the frightened looking mother.  
"They both die?!" Reinette asked, frantic,  
"Sorta, Sherlock goes missing for a while, a few years as he hunts down the men who were threatening to shoot John, their Landlady Mrs. Hudson and Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. But he comes back. Shoot, I need to learn that song!" Reinette ventures a question about Angels.  
"What do angels call themselves, normally?"  
"Custos Angeli, Guardian Angels in Latin." Michelangela smiled at the mention of the name of her race. Reinette nodded, still royally confused. Michelangela looked at the sky, then the ground,  
"Oop, time to go let Adreia know, you came first, since Sherlock is the secondary Watch. See you soon!" Then, with a wave, Michelangela grew wings and flew up into the sky. Reinette waved back, shook her head, and massaged her stomach, thinking to stop and pick up a tester, just to see.  
Reinette Watson walked the rest of the way home with the weight of her unborn son's future, the pain, the happiness, and the suffering that was to come.


	7. Chapter 8

Michelangela walked into the crime scene, a roost for doves. She almost screamed at the sight in front of her, dead, wingless doves littering the wooden floor boards. She was followed by Sherlock. John had had work that he couldn't get out of. Sherlock saw her reaction, and then saw the scene. He wordlessly and gently pushed her outside. She went without protest to get herself together. Cam's worry came through their psychic connection. She sent reassurance to him and went back in. The sight burned her. She took everything in with a blank face. Sherlock watched her out of the corner of his eye as her face turned white and she ran over to him, out of breath. "John." She said, sounding scared for the first time in the time Sherlock had known her. "I need your phone, now!" Sherlock handed it over and she called John. Someone picked up, and her face went even whiter, if the was even possible. "No," she whispered, looking petrified. "No." She sounded surer. "You will have three Angels on your tail if you don't let him go right now! The doves were innocent. Why did you kill them? And their owner?" She just got angrier. Sherlock took her arm and pulled her from the room so she wouldn't clue Lestrade into the fact that his three best detectives were Angels. She stayed on the phone until the person she was talking too apparently hung up and she growled and flung the phone at Sherlock. "He's this way. Cam, here, now." She growled, Cam showing up quickly. The trio took flight and followed Michelangela's lead to the warehouse where John was being held. Mik muttered under breath and the men behind her heard only a few snatches. "Idiot…. Doves…. Wings…. Mori-freakin-arty…. Wings gone…. John…. Dad…. Sherlock…." After saying Sherlock's name she laughed bitterly and said. "That will be the day." Finally, she called, "Down here. He's down here." As she swooped down to just outside a warehouse. Wings tucked away, Mik holding a gun in front of her like a CIA agent. Cam shifted uncomfortably behind her, not happy with her acceptance of guns an Angel shouldn't have. As they approached the first interior door, she stopped. When Cam asked her how she knows how to act so perfectly, she whispers, "Before I died I was a child agent for a government agency, I loved it." She sounded wistful. Cam fidgeted, he had known she wasn't born an Angel, but he hadn't known her background.

"Of course," she said bitterly, "I had an Angel guarding me, but he freakin' failed, he was so busy trying to convince me that we were soul mates that he missed the sniper in the eaves. I got to shoot an Angel before I died." She sounded happy. Then she became serious again and dropped into a crouch, "Okay, I'm going in, don't either of you dare follow me in." She fixed both of the men with a glare. They nodded, having no other choice.

Mik sneaked in to the next room and saw John, but no captor. She cautiously approached him. "John? John, can you hear me?" She heard a murmured, "Mik." She let out a relieved sigh. "Okay, am I correct about who has you here? Is it…?" John nodded weakly. "Okay," She heaved a sigh, "Let's go." She helped him walk to Sherlock and Cam, "Sherlock, are you strong enough to fly with both yourself and John?" Sherlock nodded, and they left.

Once back at 221B, Mik tried to coax John's wings out, but finally, when he tried, she was overwhelmed by his pain, emotional and physical. "Stop! John, stop!" She cried. His wings were gone. Both John and Mik were crying, Mik was sobbing and John was just crying. Both Cam and Sherlock were out, but they came home to see both John and Mik crying on the floor. Cam came home first and scooped up Mik, shushing her and trying to calm her down enough to get coherent words from her. Sherlock followed soon after, awkwardly trying to calm John. The men were confused as both of the crying Angels kept saying, "Wingless, doves, pain, evil, where? Help!" The last cry came from Mik, who proceeded to start to babble. "His wings! His wings are gone, ripped away like the doves'. Gone, gone, gone, gone. They aren't there anymore. Evil demon tears them off. That's what the doves meant. Doves were innocent and lost their wings. He was innocent and lost his wings." Sherlock understood. His face turned paler than anyone thought was possible. "John. Whoever had John took his wings." Sherlock cradled the sleeping ex-army doctor and denied the fact vehemently in his mind, even though his analytical mind laid all of the facts out for him so he couldn't argue with them. Mik calmed down and Sherlock demanded, "Who did this? Who did you talk to?" Mik looked at him like he was crazy. "Who do you think? Moriarty."


End file.
